April 4th, 1984
Hello future. Hello whoever you are. Or maybe I am only writing to myself. What year is it? Who were my parents? Who am I?
"Gulp" goes a swig of Victory Gin. My throat burns, my eyes tear, and suddenly... the world is a brighter, happier place. Big Brother stares at me, and I can't look back; his strong eyes pierce through me like a silver dagger.
I flicker the light switches, but they don't work. WORK, WORK, WORK! Nope, still not working. Everything in this room is obsolete, but I understand...kind of... Stupid lift shaft, stupid varicose ulcer, stupid light switches. Yet, there are ways I can escape this world; after all, there is always the Victory Gin I keep under my nightstand, which can always take me to a... MORE perfect world.
Pig iron, telescreen, boiled cabbage, and gray world that comforts me like a monster sleeping under a child's bed. My world is like a snow globe without snow flakes; something is missing. Big Brother stares at everything I do, but I guess this is good because he is only trying to help keep me safe, of course. But I still wonder what is happening in the Ministry of Love. Why is there barbed wire and hidden machine gun nests? Big Brother is like a brother, so why should he hide anything?
While I was working at the Ministry of Truth, I saw this woman, this hot, sexy...stupid, putrid woman. I want to smash her head in with a jack hammer! I want to see her blood stream all over the floor. I want to see her scarlet sash which resembles her abstinence be torn into shreds, and she falls to the ground, yelling and crying.
And while I write to you...future, unborn child...I don't care if they catch me...the Thought Police. There is nothing to be afraid of. What do I have to lose? A ramshackle house that smells like cabbage? Yet, I am still scared...for what?
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